


how to make a little boy feel better

by lemon_meringue



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter is 18 and Steve is aged down even though neither are specified bc fiction, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Steve Rogers, daddy Steve Rogers, ddlb, for some reason they’re in the avengers tower and Tony is nowhere to be found, i didn’t think about set up i just wanted some cute shit im sorry, little peter parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 13:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18152552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemon_meringue/pseuds/lemon_meringue
Summary: Peter has a bad day and something like a little space. Steve is a good daddy.





	how to make a little boy feel better

**Author's Note:**

> Steve/Peter ddlb (that’s what we’re calling it, right?) is lowkey my favorite thing. I might make a collection out of all the daddy!Steve fics I wanna write. Assuming I like, you know, get good at writing fics
> 
> This is just pure unbeta’d fluff. I’d apologize for the quality but I think at this point it’s just expected of me

It’s not really a ‘little space’, exactly. Not completely. But it’s close.

 

Peter doesn’t really _act_  or _f_ _eel_  like a little kid when he goes into that headspace. He doesn’t regress at all. It’s just that sometimes he needs to color with crayons and cuddle with stuffies and indulge in childish foods, movies, or picture books. Sometimes he just needs to be spoken to like he’s a kid; gently, with simple, sweet language. Sometimes he needs a break from advanced biology classes and being Spider-man. Sometimes he just needs to be taken care of.

 

Steve knows this, encourages it, actually. Loves it, if he’s being honest. He loves taking care of Peter. Loves to see how the boy physically relaxes when they put on cartoons and eat animal crackers and Steve tells him sweet nothings like he’s a child that needs protection. Which, ok, he kind of is.

 

And it’s not something he’d really admit to anyone other than Peter, but Steve loves it when Peter calls him daddy. Not even in a sexual way (yeah, alright, he likes that too), but absent-mindedly when he asks for Steve to get them more snacks. Telling Steve about his day, about a tree he saw that looked like it was out of some classic movie he’d made Steve watch. Whispering in Steve’s ear that he loves him, giving him that sweet, sweet smile.

 

So Peter doesn’t really have a little space, but he’s got something kinda close. And Steve fully appreciates the role that gives him as the designated daddy.

 

And when Peter shows up at the tower seeming like he’s teetering on the edge of either snapping or crying, Steve knows what the boy needs.

 

Peter doesn’t seem ready to talk about whatever’s wrong, answering Steve’s greeting and questions about his day with short, distant-minded answers. So Steve lets him get situated in the living room with his homework, resigning not to bother him.

 

Though, he does leave him carrot sticks and flower shaped cuts of fruit, humming some song he heard on the radio. Peter eats the snacks without acknowledging them, so Steve steps up his game.

 

He makes sure to ask the boy brief, neutral questions, taking care to use Peter’s favorite pet names.

 

“Need another pillow, baby?”

 

“I’m cutting up some strawberries, sweetheart, want any?”

 

Peter seems a little more responsive to those. It’s encouragement, and Steve presses on. He’s not really enticing Peter’s ‘little space’, not quite. But he is trying to guide him there. He knows it’ll be easier for Peter to talk about what’s wrong, and easier for Steve to help, if he’s in that space.

 

So the soldier ensures that the blanket he casually drapes around Peter _happens_  to be his favorite, fluffy with faded blue trains on it. It must be pure coincidence that one of Peter’s favorite stuffies, a little elephant, _happens_  to be wrapped up in the blanket and falls into Peter’s lap when he curls up.

 

Steve keeps Peter’s snack plate full and nonchalantly turns on the TV quietly in the background, which happens to be playing cartoons, and waits.

 

It takes an hour or two, but Peter finally puts his homework down, looking a little lost and sad. Steve slowly makes his way over to the couch, sitting down next to his boy and wrapping an arm around his small shoulders.

 

“Wanna talk about it, baby boy?” The soldier asks, as gently as he can. Peter swallows heavy and sniffles, and oh fuck, he’s trying not to cry. He straightens his back a little after a second, though, and nods.

 

“I, I don’t know, I just. Bad day, I guess. Flash was more of an asshole than usual, and I couldn’t get lunch because I had to help the librarian put this new delivery of books away, and then I couldn’t get my locker open and I was late to class, and Ned’s sick today so I didn’t get to see him at all and that sucked, and I tripped on the stairs so my knee’s hurt since third period and, I just,” he pauses and huffs out a hoarse, brave little laugh that makes Steve’s heart hurt, “yeah, not a great day.” He’s blinking furiously and wipes his eyes with his palm, and Steve wants to wrap him up in his arms. So he does.

  
He drags Peter in by the waist and shoulders until the boy is in his lap, one of Steve’s arms behind his back and the other around his shins, Peter’s knees pulled up, gathering him close and holding him tight. He rocks them slightly and peppers kisses to the boy’s hair and forehead.

 

“Shh, you’re ok, you’re alright. I’m sorry you had such a rough day, baby. That sounds real bad. But you know what?” He says softly, waiting for Peter to hum ‘hm?’. “It’s over now. Now you’re here and I’ve got you and you’re ok, angel. We’ll talk more about Flash and missing lunch later. Right now, what do you say we get some more snacks and find something to watch, hm? That sound good, sweetheart?”

 

Peter nods and sighs against Steve’s chest, curling in on himself even more. Steve’s grateful the boy lets him shift the blanket and manipulate his leg so he could pull up Peter’s jeans to look at his knee. He’d noticed his baby favoring one since he got home and assumes that’s the one he mentioned injuring. He’s right.

 

There’s a dark purple bruise in an oblong shape on the lower part of Peter’s knee. Steve coos at him, wishing (perfectly aware of how ridiculous it sounds) that he could make it better, instantly, and protect Peter from everyone and everything. He wants to wrap him up and keep him safe from all the world has to offer, but he knows if he ever tried anything even remotely similar, Peter would raise hell. The boy’s like that. Thinks every problem is his problem and people are inherently good and is desperate to prove himself. It’s endearing, very much so, but also gives Steve a heart attack every time he comes home with injuries or puts himself in danger.

 

Steve kisses the bruise as lightly as he can before gently rolling the leg of Peter’s jeans back down. Then he straightens up and kisses Peter’s cheek, whispering, “I wish you’d let me protect you, honey.” Peter giggles and it’s music to Steve’s ears. Then:

 

“Daddy, that tickles,” followed by more giggling, and Steve smiles, knowing he’s succeeded.

 

“Oh yeah? That tickles, Petey-pie?” He grins, moving to kiss all over the small boy’s face. Peter laughs, squirming to get away. He yelps when Steve ends up on top of him, and Steve thinks he likes the way Peter looks, wriggling underneath him with pink cheeks and big doe eyes, too much. He pushes Peter’s shirt up the boy’s chest and bends down, one leg bent against the back of the couch, one foot braced against the floor. Peter bursts into high pitched, incoherent pleas and laughter when Steve starts blowing raspberries on his tummy. He tickles the boy’s sides and blows his tongue against the sensitive skin of his belly until Peter is close to tears.

 

Steve is satisfied that the gleam in the boy’s eyes is from laughter and not his shitty day. He pulls away smiling and lets Peter cool down, his laughter dying away as he rights his shirt.

 

“Snacks and snuggles?” Steve prompts after a moment, and Peter smiles at him. God, what Steve would do to see him smile like that always.

 

“Yeah!” the boy exclaims excitedly, nodding his head. He lets Steve sit him up before the soldier goes to collect more food, and then lets Steve pull him back into his lap once they’re situated. Steve probably won’t admit to anyone how pleased he is with that; how much he likes manhandling Peter. How easy it is with how _small_ the boy is.

 

They fix the blanket around themselves and Steve watches Peter flip through channels with a fond smile. He doesn’t know what his baby picks out; he’s not really paying attention. He’s more focused on wrapping his arms around Peter’s small waist and pulling him in tight, littering kisses against his temple and the side of his face. Peter giggles through it all, finally evading Steve enough to push himself higher and kiss Steve’s cheek.

 

“I love you, daddy,” he whispers. Steve thinks he dies on the spot. But maybe he doesn’t, because he’s alive enough to smile wide and kiss Peter’s nose.

 

“I love you too, baby boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> if it's choppy, weirdly paced, and overall grammatically incorrect; it must be mine. Apologies but I just needed to get this out of my head asap. Hope it wasn't that terrible <3


End file.
